An Impromptu Proposal

by Carla Cassidy

  Thinking of him, she reached for her purse. She’d hoped to come home to a message on her answering machine from Gideon Graves, telling her he was taking the case. But the red light on her machine wasn’t blinking to announce any calls. Digging through the contents of her purse, she retrieved the slip of paper the private detective had given her with his phone number written on it.

  Instead of dialing his number right away, she leaned back into the couch cushions, staring thoughtfully at his bold, strong writing. In the brief time she’d spent with Gideon Graves, he’d unsettled her as she hadn’t been unsettled in a very long time.

  He’d been so blatantly masculine, with just enough rough edges to make him intriguing. A dangerous combination and a definite strike against pursuing him to take the case. She’d tried that particular combination before, with heartbreaking results.

  Still, after being burned by the three other private detectives, she’d done a lot of checking on Gideon Graves before finally attempting to hire him that morning. Despite her efforts to thoroughly check his background, there were secrets in Gideon’s past. Three years ago he had resigned from the police department, and Colleen found herself wondering why a highly decorated officer would suddenly decide to quit and live like a reprobate on a run-down houseboat.

  Withdrawing another cinnamon twist from the bag, she realized she didn’t care about the secrets in Gideon Graves’s past, nor did she care where or how he lived. All she wanted from the man was his expertise in finding missing persons. She wanted him to find Sam.

  She got up off the sofa and went into her bedroom, where she quickly changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of jogging pants and a matching sweatshirt.

  More comfortable, she went to the sofa and grabbed another cinnamon knot. With the sticky sweet pastry in one hand and the phone number on her lap, she picked up the phone and dialed Graves’s number. It had rung only once when a soft knock fell on her door. “Come on in,” Colleen yelled, assuming it was Elda, who often came over for an evening cup of tea.

  The door flew open, and she swallowed hard as Gideon walked in, his features twisted into a threatening thundercloud. “Oh,” she squeaked and hung up the phone. “I was just trying to call you.” She stood up, refusing to be daunted by the fact that he seemed to fill the small living room with the width of his shoulders. His eyes glittered with what appeared to be suppressed anger.

  He threw the folder she’d given him on the sofa. “I can only assume you were calling to tell me you’d mistakenly left out some information when you spoke to me this morning. Unimportant information like the fact that Sam Baker is wanted for murder.”

  “He didn’t do it,” she replied. “It’s all a horrible mistake. He couldn’t possibly have done it. I know Sam, and he could never murder anyone.”

  Gideon chuckled, a distinctly unpleasant sound. “He’ll cheat on his wife and child, but he draws the line at murder?”

  As he crossed the room and sank down on the sofa, Colleen breathed a small sigh of relief. Okay, so he’d discovered part of the truth, but apparently not all of it. He still believed she was Sam’s lover, not his sister.

  “I suppose his wife didn’t understand him, and that’s why he had to cheat on her. Perhaps his father didn’t understand him, and that’s why he had to kill him.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Colleen scoffed. She sat down next to him on the sofa, far enough away so they didn’t touch but close enough to smell him. He smelled like a salty breeze, and fresh sunshine, and the slight musk of male. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything, but I was afraid you wouldn’t take the case if you knew he was wanted for murder.”

  “I hate liars.”

  A heated flush crept up her neck, warming her cheeks. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell.”

  “A lie of omission.” He leaned back and raked a hand through his unruly hair. “What smells so good?”

  Colleen pointed to the bag on the coffee table. “Cinnamon knots. My neighbor bakes them for me. Want one?” she offered grudgingly.

  “Sure. I didn’t have a chance to eat all day.” He reached into the bag and withdrew one. “Got any coffee?”

  “Are you going to take the case?”

  He looked at her in surprise, and she noted for the first time that his eyes weren’t really black. They were gray, with tiny flecks of gold around the pupils. They would be nice eyes if they weren’t quite so fierce. “If I say no does that mean I have to eat this without any coffee?” he asked.

  “If you say no I intend to grab that cinnamon knot out of your hand and eat it myself,” she returned evenly.

  He stared at her another moment, then laughed. This time it was a pleasant sound that shot through her with warmth even though she suspected he was laughing at her. His laughter did something pleasing to his features, alleviated the darkness, relaxed the taut lines and transformed him from disturbing to devastating. “Now that’s the kind of honesty I can admire.”

  She raised her chin, meeting his gaze boldly. “I don’t care much whether you admire me or not. I want to know if you’re going to help me find Sam.”

  For the second time since meeting her, Gideon felt a flare of envy for Sam Baker. Colleen Jensen appeared single-minded in her desire to find the man. Gideon knew if he disappeared off the face of the earth tomorrow, nobody would grieve his absence, nobody would mourn his disappearance. Except perhaps Fast Eddy, and that, in itself, was a depressing thought. “I’m still considering if I should take the case or not.”

  She eyed him speculatively, then emitted a tiny sigh of exasperation. “And I suppose you could consider better if you had a cup of coffee?”

  He grinned and looked at the cinnamon knot he still held in his fingers. “I believe I could.” He watched as she left the living room, disappearing into what he assumed was the kitchen.

  The moment she was gone, he looked around with interest. Gideon had learned early in his police training that observation of a person’s living space often provided important clues to personality. And Gideon rarely took a case where he didn’t know something about the person hiring him.

  He probably could have discovered something about Colleen Jensen by checking motor vehicle information or records at the courthouse. But Gideon knew that would only provide him rudimentary dry material that would have little to do with the real Colleen Jensen. He preferred to rely on his own intuitive abilities and observation skills.

  She liked nice things. That was the first thing he noticed when he looked around. The furniture was expensive, name brands that came with lifetime guarantees. He wondered what Sam had bought and paid for.

  She also appeared to be obsessively neat. A place for everything and everything in its place. He looked at the coffee table, where pieces of sugar glaze had fallen off the cinnamon knot, looking like flakes of dandruff against the rich, dark wood. Perverse pleasure battled with guilt as he stared at the mess.

  “Here we are,” she said briskly as she reentered the room, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and cream and sugar. He nodded as she handed him one of the cups.

  Settling against the cushions of the sofa, he looked at her once again. There was no denying that she was an attractive woman. Even in the casual clothing, there was a grace to her movements, a natural elegance. The peach-colored sweat suit gave her cheeks a healthy glow and offset dramatically her dark curls. It was her eyes that captivated him, bewitching eyes, blue with just a touch of smoke.

  He frowned. How he would love a cigarette. Well, he’d reached a decision. He would drink the coffee, eat the donut, then tell her he wasn’t going to help her. The last thing he needed in his life was a case where the police were involved and the man was suspected of killing his father.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” he observed. “Looks like you live pretty well on a social worker’s salary.”

  She shrugged. “I get by.”

  With a little help from Sam Baker, Gideon guessed. Funny, she didn’t loo
k like his idea of a kept woman. But then Gideon was smart enough to know not to judge a book by its cover.

  Still, there was something appealingly innocent about her. A lack of guile in her eyes, a candor Gideon found disconcerting. He frowned and popped the last of the cinnamon knot into his mouth. Time to tell the lady no and get the hell out of here. He drained the coffee and stood up. She rose, as well, a tiny frown line appearing between her eyebrows.

  “Look, Ms. Jensen,” he began.

  “Colleen. If we’re going to be working together please call me Colleen.” Her voice radiated with an underlying desperation, and for the first time in years Gideon felt like a heel. It was not a pleasant feeling.

  “That’s just it. We aren’t going to be working together.” He paused at the door, refusing to be drawn into the deep disappointment that darkened her eyes.

  “But you ate my cinnamon knot,” she said, as if somehow in doing so he had made a solemn vow.

  “Sam is wanted for murder. He’s being sought by the police. He’s been gone for months. Don’t you think if he wanted to be in touch with you, somehow he would have gotten through by now?”

  She moved to stand next to him, bringing with her the sweet scent of her floral perfume. She placed a hand on his arm. Her fingertips barely pressed into his skin, but he felt the touch as if it contained fire.

  “This is something I have to do,” she said. “I can’t just sit and wait. I have to know if he’s okay. I need to know that he’s not—” She broke off and stepped away from him. When she turned around her eyes radiated unexpected strength, steely determination. “Mr. Graves, I intend to follow through in hiring a private detective. I’ve heard you’re the best. But if I can’t get you to take the case, then I’ll settle for second-best.”

  Gideon frowned, once again getting the overwhelming feeling that his life was out of control. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t take this case. And only one reason he was going to. He knew if he didn’t, her eyes would haunt him forever. And he was haunted enough already.

  “Two weeks,” he reluctantly relented. “I’ll give you two weeks, and if I don’t come up with any fresh leads or clues to Sam’s whereabouts, then that will be the end of it as far as I’m concerned.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything yet.” He opened the door, then turned to her one last time. “There aren’t any other little surprises you’ve forgotten to mention to me, are there?”

  “Of course not,” she answered after a beat of hesitation. Her gaze met his, unflinching. She was either being completely honest, or she was one hell of a liar.

  As he walked down the sidewalk toward his car, he wondered why he was so certain it was the latter.

  Chapter Three

  “Hi, Gideon.” Fast Eddy greeted him as he walked out of his houseboat the next morning.

  Gideon stifled a groan. Hadn’t the boy gone home at all last night? Eddy had been waiting for him when he’d gotten home the night before, eager to show off the cleaning he’d done during Gideon’s absence. In truth, Gideon had been surprised at what Eddy had managed to accomplish. The living quarters sparkled with a cleanliness they hadn’t enjoyed in the three years he had been living there.

  “I was just on my way out,” Gideon said, fighting against a wave of guilt.

  “Oh.” The smile on Eddy’s face slipped just a notch. “Working on the case?”

  “Actually, I was just on my way to the Harbor for some breakfast.” Gideon paused a moment, wondering what it was about Eddy that touched him. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

  Eddy shook his head.

  “Come on, I’ll buy you some eggs, and we’ll talk about what kind of work you’ll be doing for me.”

  “Sure, that sounds great,” Eddy exclaimed, his voice squeaking with ill-concealed excitement.

  As they walked toward the restaurant, Gideon was aware of Eddy mimicking his walk, making his strides mirror Gideon’s. Gideon immediately regretted his impulse, knowing there was no way now he could take back the offer of breakfast or work.

  What was it about this fresh-faced, red-haired kid that managed to push all his buttons? He didn’t consider himself a compassionate man, but something about Eddy managed to burst through his defenses and find a core of empathy.

  The Harbor Restaurant was a popular place for breakfast among the fishermen in the area. When Gideon and Eddy walked in, the early morning eaters had already come and gone, leaving the two their pick of tables.

  Gideon chose a booth in the back, the same place he ate breakfast most mornings.

  “I know why you sit back here,” Eddy said as he slid in across from Gideon. “Private eyes always sit in the back of places so they can see if trouble walks in the front door.” He looked at Gideon proudly.

  Gideon sighed inwardly, not having the heart to tell Eddy that the only reason he sat back here was that he was close enough to the coffeepot to pour his own when the waitress was too busy.

  “So, did you take the dame’s case?” Eddy asked as soon as the waitress had taken their orders and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Temporarily.” Gideon frowned, his thoughts reluctantly pulled back to Colleen Jensen. She’d occupied his dreams last night. Although he had not been able to remember exactly what he’d dreamed, he’d awakened knowing she’d been a central ingredient in a restless night.

  “What’s her story?”

  “She wants me to find a friend of hers.” Eddy’s eager smile once again wavered, and Gideon knew the kid had been hoping for something juicier than a missing friend case. “Her friend is wanted by the police. He’s the main suspect in a murder case.”

  Eddy’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. “Wow.” He leaned across the table. “Sounds like a two-man case. You gonna let me help you with this one?”

  Gideon considered Eddy’s comment for a long moment. The kid had delusions of grandeur concerning the life of a private detective. He expected a life of fancy cars, fast women and danger, and nothing was further from the truth. “Okay Eddy, for the next couple of weeks you can consider yourself my partner.” He named the figure he would pay per hour, unsurprised when Eddy protested he didn’t need to be paid.

  “Heck, if I had any money, I’d pay you,” Eddy exclaimed, his blue eyes shining bright with excitement.

  Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the waitress with their food. As they ate, Gideon was thankful that Eddy seemed occupied with his thoughts, for a change not filling the silence with idle chatter.

  Gideon ate slowly, mechanically, his thoughts on the case he had agreed to take. Thankfully, with modern technology, much of his search for Sam Baker would take place via his computer. Colleen had provided him the man’s social security number and his driver’s license number. It was a starting place. However, Gideon knew before he began his search in earnest he would need to ask Colleen Jensen some in-depth questions about her lover.

  “Gideon, is everything all right?”

  He started and realized for a moment he’d forgotten Eddy’s presence. “Sure. Why?”

  “You were really scowling.” Eddy looked at him anxiously. “You aren’t going to change your mind about hiring me, are you?”

  “No, Eddy, I was just thinking about the case.”

  Eddy nodded and popped the last of a piece of toast into his mouth. “The case of the gorgeous dame and her deadly friend,” he said as he chewed. “It would make a great movie of the week.”

  “Only if we solve it,” Gideon replied dryly. He finished his coffee, then stood up. He dug into his pocket and withdrew enough money to pay for the meal. Throwing it on the table, he waited for Eddy to drain his glass of milk, then together they left the restaurant and stepped out into the autumn sunshine.

  “So, where do we begin to crack this case wide open?” Eddy asked enthusiastically.

  Gideon pulled a twenty-dollar bill out o
f his pocket and handed it to Eddy. “I want you to go to the library and photocopy every newspaper article you can find concerning the death of Joseph Baker.”

  Eddy’s face fell. Although he didn’t grumble or voice a single complaint, Gideon knew this sort of library drudgery wasn’t exactly the kind of glamorous detective work he’d had in mind. Tough. The kid might as well understand the reality of being a detective, which rarely involved fast cars, beautiful women and danger.

  “You might also cross-reference and copy anything you can find on Baker Enterprises and the family,” Gideon continued. “Then I’ll meet you at the houseboat some time this afternoon.”

  “Okay. Don’t worry, I’ll get a copy of everything that’s ever been printed on the Bakers,” Eddy promised. “When Fast Eddy does a job, he does it right.” He started to leave, but paused when Gideon called his name.

  “Wipe your mouth, Eddy,” he instructed. He mentally groaned. He had a case he wasn’t sure he wanted and a new partner who sported a milk mustache. How could things possibly get any worse?

  Moments later he parked his car along Bay Shore’s Main Street, in front of the tiny office that announced the building to be Suffolk County Social Services. For a long minute he simply sat in the car, dreading the thought of going inside and speaking with Colleen.

  He should have asked her all the questions he needed to the night before. However, the moment she had touched him, the instant her fingers had lingered on his arm, he only knew the need to escape. He scoffed now, realizing his reaction to her had probably been an odd, residual effect of his hangover combined with his irritation over her misrepresentation of the facts of Sam’s disappearance.

  Getting out of the car, he supposed he should be grateful that at least she hadn’t lied about where she lived or worked. He could even forgive her lie of omission, understanding her fear that the murder might keep him from taking the case.